Concatenation
by IretherI
Summary: There is nothing more painful than to free someone you love and see him happy with the woman who had him first. In the end, there will always be someone hurting and this time, I decided that it shall be me.


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Concatenation **is a non-profitable piece of fanfiction that is merely borrowing characters from Saiyuki, which should I mention is not mine at all. Any similarities of characters, events, settings or even the plot is purely coincedental and rest assured that only means that great minds think alike. All disclaimer's apply, blah, blah, blah; please don't sue me because I do not have money (my own money, that is). Without further adieu, I bid you my lastest piece. 

**Note:** Flames will be ignored, constructive criticism will be taken into great consideration and feedback is greetly encouraged. Tell me you liked it, disliked it and why. Now, on with the story...

**Second Note:** All thanks to the lj community: imagination500 for inspiring me to write again, special mention to: KeyneMckinnon for placing the prompt. Oh yeah, this was an answer to a challenge.

**Third Note:** This is an alternate universe, no demons and only humans but hopefully I have characterized them well as they should. I did not know what Yaone's last name is so I randomly picked one and now she's Yaone Saji, mind that I'm using English as the main language and now I'm just stalling, better stop and let you go on read. Please, do go on.

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"There is nothing more painful than to free someone you truly love and see him happy with the woman who had him first. In the end, there will always be someone hurting and this time, I decided that it shall be me." Yaone Saji

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Rainer Maria Rilke, who was said to be generally considered as the greatest German language's greatest poet of the twentieth century poet, had said: "I am afraid that if I loose my demons, my angels will take flight as well."One day at my college library, I come across such a wonderful poet and this simple quote that makes me feel quite something indescribable and now, I know why.

He held me all the way, the dance that never refused us to end. His body moving serpentine against mine own, I could not believe that we have fallen into the same path again. Fighting tooth and nail, in a battle he has already won and now, he is reaping his rewards; showering them with utmost devotion: loving me.

My eyes are shut blind but I can still see his face, brilliant green eyes of such brilliant man, it brings back a memory. Surging through me like a lightning bolt, another impromptu arriere-pensee while making love: it was the memory of the first time we met.

He was a college student who studied physics and theology, he was one of the popular guys at the college I went to. He had everything you could ever want while I worked for everything I needed; I was a part-time waitress in a bar to pay college tuition, amongst other things, it was one of the jobs that pay well added the bonus tips. I was supposed to do my job that day but my physical figure seemed to have attracted an ungodly number of new male patrons into the bar. On the bright side, I was getting a lot of tips after sacrificing my own welfare of not caring how they ogled at me. Until one man, too drunk to respect the unwritten laws of personal space, grabbed my bottom and before I knew it, an ashtray had assaulted his head for me.

Then they called me; they were a peculiar bunch. One man, with golden hair regarded as a holy man in my class at school, envied by both men and women of our school; and another man, with long blood red hair, classed as a professional womanizer and heart breaker -considering the number of women he has dated and possibly slept with, I bet he has one girl on the palm of his hand for a week and then changes it like a worn shirt. Both of them smoked to no end and the youngest of their posse, the one who only needed one single breath to order all of the delicacies on both sides of the menu and loved food more than anything. He, on the other hand, laid silent and cool while I was taking their order. Then the drunkard came back, slurring his words from intoxication and breathing such a heedy aroma of liquor into my face, saying that he wanted to drink with me.

I refused as respectfully as I could because as my boss would say: the customer is always right. And considering the large fact that I needed the job and well, let's just say that I could not fight back. Fighting back would take my job and I would bid farewell to my payment of tuition fees, but his friends -Hakkai's friends stopped them from dragging me away. I was trying to worm away from the drunkard's grip and breath, _he _came to my immediate rescue -twisting my assailant's arm. He surprised me, I would have thought that the female-lover of the group would come to me and whisk me away.

I guessed wrong.

It was the first time I met them but ever since I started my freshman year, three years ago, I have been hearing much about their group. I could say that they were hailed as gods in the college I still go to and from what loose mouths would say, Sha Gojyo has an eye for women but as I looked at my knight in shining armour, he was not the one who chased after trouble and women wearing skimpy waitress uniforms.

The, they started to cause more trouble. The drunk man had plenty of friends and they started to cause chaos: breaking tables and the food atop it was defiled: uneaten and wasted on the floor. Goku mourned for it and along with Gojyo, they fought with them.

I was still shocked and depressed knowing that all the damage will probably come out of my pay.

They were fundamentally different as I had imagined them to be; my month's pay will be gone the moment they stop fighting, sinking down to my knees, I knew it was all my fault.

He stood next to me; scratching the back of his head, telling me that it was not my fault. I looked up at him as he gave me the same smile he's giving me now, one that completely read: chagrined. It was so silly and I wanted to say something back but one of our rowdy customers aimed, with his fist, at his face and he evaded it. Grabbing the man's arm and flipping the man in one fluid motion. He looked back at me saying, "I won't let those men get away with sexually harassing you."

I still remember how quick my heart started beating and how my cheeks burned when he winked at me. From then on, I could not help myself, but be drawn to him like a moth to the flames of the night; still refusing to admit that he already stole my heart.

His gaze pierced me, bearing holes at the back of my head; as I lay face down on the mattress, and the lower half of my body up in the air gripped by his soft, gentle and greedy hands. He overpowered me as I had let him, I could hear myself whimpering aloud; wondering if that was actually me. I sounded like a woman in complete pain. On the contrary, I am absolutely not. I let a smile pass through my lips, the neighbours must have been out tonight since they did not bang at their ceilings; this room's floor or even scream at us from the door. They come in barging, thinking that someone is torturing me and all I can do is feel my face heat up. I wished that not to happen; it is too embarrassing. This will be our last night together in this hotel and a beginning of another search of our own have; staying too long together in once place is not wise, there is too much at stake.

I push the thought of missing the feel of being in the French-style hotel and focus on him instead. Now, he's caressing my shoulder, with light-feathery touches of his lips. My knees tremble and I shudder more so with his husky praise: moaning, at every moment; grunting, at every thrust; loving me, without following what was wrong or what was right.

_How could he do this to me? _A wolf in sheep's clothing; people are never what you truly expect them to be. Underneath his exterior of great gentleness and such strong likeness of an angel: he is stronger than man, but not omnipotent; he has greater knowledge than man, but not omniscient; he is more noble than man, but not omnipresent. I can read him in plain sight, my hopes high on my inferential impression and it is brought back down by his well-hidden half-hearted attempts. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and I still cannot see what he really is.

He makes me feel free and taste the true meaning of freedom. He loves me without condition and never forgets to be my friend. He is an infinite angel, and yet I know that he is also my demon. Hidden beneath the angelic face and the angelic traits, he is making me do wrong. Hidden within his beautiful face, there is a hideous demon, one who does not indulge in benevolence or malevolence. Thinking about it makes me forget how to use proper words for now he's moving me: posing my left leg atop his shoulder and he is digging into me deep.

I have become numb to the world and I cannot feel anything that does not concern him.

Day in and day out, he greets me with smiles and showers me with knowing wisdom. For such a young man of twenty-two years, he has already made a conclusion about life and he says it to me like a soft mother reminding her daughter. Though I cannot help but compare him as his best friends would bluntly say: 'a mouth guy who acts like a woman', he drives me mad. He seemed to have been taken my by deep whimpers and pushed me further into blissful oblivion.

As he wound our bodies into another intricate arrangement, I cannot do anything else but urge him on. I am stunned at, no matter how many times we wound ourselves together, how little things piled up one after another shifts events into something; someone more great.

Sweat lay glistened on our entwining bodies, as the pale moon shone out from the only window. He is doing it again, making sure that I hear everything he says I make him feel. With his body now atop mine, he made me hear everything: every sensual word uttered from his lips; everything he does with his lean and sinew body, and if it were possible, I could have sworn that I heard him screaming inside my head. his thoughts became mine and mine became his, together we were _one_.

I'm thinking about what is: this; that; who what; when; where; how; I find myself in the brink of what is sane and what is insane. I feel so close and conclude that I am truly crazy to be with him, everything made made sense though now, I am confused at how simple it can be and at present, I am suspicious.

He has me eating at the palm of his hand and confused.

Forgive me, if I am not making any sense. I cannot help but do so when he has me screaming his name upon my lips over and over again until my throat ached. I said it all with eagerness, affection and the same kind of breathlessness he like to hear and kept me doing it all over again. Never taking his eyes off me, never stopping in both ways. I tell him, "You have the most beautiful face graced by God onto man." And he just smiled; it never quite reached his eyes, he must have doubted me.

It was something I said and something he had done all along, that had brought us together. There was that inkling feeling whispering to me; telling me that it was wrong and listing the numerous ways that I have sinned against my God. I have shamed myself and another ironically coincidental meet outside a bookstore; or a cafe down the road; or a Chinese restaurant; it still led us to another hotel room screwing the life out of each other, then resting for half an hour and watch television, gaining back the energy we lost to just loose it all again in the same manner. It was a cycle, a gloriously and fabulous cycle.

His pace was not wavering as I had initially thought. He was pushing harder and harder against time we both we know we do not have much of.

Both so close to reach the heavens, and we did. The little piece of heaven buried underneath the strands of human relation; the candlelit room, whose walls and mirror shadowed every move died along with our stillness.

He clasped my hand and held it tight, pressing a king's kiss to his princess, an end of their sordid affair.

At least, for another night.

The mild, polite, level-headed, and handsome gentleman -that had once saved my life from my own destructive hands- is a good man. He is a passionate (yet rough) lover whose green eyes and boyish smile, boyishly good looks make me forget of the toils and troubles in the harsh, cruel kingdom: our world. But sometimes, good people do bad things; it is human nature. And I am afraid as I see him light one cigarette in the dark and crisp night that I am not as innocent, as naive as before the countless times we have been with each other.

I am afraid that he has taken me underneath his world of questionable motives; forever lost, I am not. Just drowning in a fantasy, prone to break, with him.

His gaze still yards away, the silence is deafening. This was the part we would later play, clothing ourselves and masking the indifference it was making me feel. When fully clothed, we would leave, but though hand in hand: with his tongue opening my mouth to fill in the quiet gap. We go back to the cycle and confine ourselves to the very same room for another little few hours forgetting how painful it would be when reality knocks on your door.

Nothing was going to change and it hurts.

But we did not play our exits yet, it was just the two of us and the feelings we make each other feel. The kind of feelings that excite you, when he's near; feelings that worry you, when he has not called after a long flight home; numerous and never-ending scenarios, unrehearsed, that obviously show how much he means to me and it is gravely wrong to do so. Only God knows how much I love this man, and it shall stay that way.

Why? Because it is not right to turn back on a promise and it's not right to steal another woman's husband.

I have to stop.

I snap away from the land of deep thoughts and contemplation, for a little while before focusing myself on him. His face, I now notice, is only a mere inches away from mine, confusion written all over me and he is amused.

"Something wrong?" he asked, and I wanted to tell him. I wanted to say to him that what we are doing is wrong. That there will be no happy ending for people like us who hide in the dark, that we are wrong for each other; so many words streaming to and fro in my head, I could not find the words and did not speak at all. I just gave him a look of annoyance.

Nothing was going to change and it hurts.

He kills the cigarette, stubbing it down the hotel-provided ashtray on the elegant rosewood bedside cabinet; with it, lay his glasses atop an open book I have yet to ask him what it was about. "There, no more stinky cigarette-breath Hakkai," he says, my disapproving look disappears now masked with a new concern: masked fear of loosing one you love. He notices, "Is something wrong? Wasn't it good for you as it was for me?" That was one of the lamest lines he has ever tried on me; whenever he made a very suggestive and very corruptive comment, he would raise his eyebrows and continue on teasing me until he has heard me laugh or at sometimes, stalk away. This time I did neither, only forming a frown deeper into my face and half-heartedly thrown a pillow on his face.

As I did nothing of any sort of a real reply, I just gave him a window to my soul and hoped that he would feel my hurting -make him understand somehow. My head downcast, I felt his strong arms pull me into an embrace. I could not help but think, _who ever thought such a thin man was actually lean body?_ I wrapped my arms around him: pulling him closer; not caring, at our state of nudity because I wanted him to be close and be a fool: pretend that he is mine. I buried my face into the crook of his neck, he knew that all I needed was to be held close and he did.

Cho Hakkai aged of twenty-two years, born on the 21st of September. He has brown hair and green eyes, stands at 181cm and weighs 69 kilograms, with the blood type of AB. He is a Virgo and favours liquor, dragons, mahjong, gambling (especially poker), and enjoys playing with little kids in the hospital. He is the peacekeeper of his boisterous friends of four, an adviser to Sanzo, a best friend to Gojyo and big brother of Goku. He is kind to every person on his side and is a passionate man for everything he believes in and enjoys having.

He was an ambitious stranger before I met him and after meeting him, he turned into a lovable friend. We constantly met without planning to: coincidences that I have deluded myself as fate. Later on, we spent much time together. One thing led to another and to make the story short, Cho Hakkai is the one I love but cannot. He is my friend. He gave me freedom, and strength, and many more gifts I am very grateful for. He makes me smile and stays with me when I needed someone. He healed me and loves me; he is my lover: my everything. He will always hold the special place my heart but, I will never be his number one favourite girl or his most prized possession.

I lay second place to another woman. I cannot say I never knew because I have, he told me so at the first time we dined together. He sounded so happy and so in love, she is the only woman that I envy so much and I know I need to stop and I will, because it is not right. My soul belongs to Go, I know since I already made that bargain long ago. I cannot keep on doing this, sacrificing my own happiness and live in misery while someone, who rightfully has him, will be happy. I have have never met her but I feel like I have known her all along, the way he tells me stories about her; it makes me want to hate her but I cannot.

If I pursue this foolish affair, it will end with someone hurting. And I have taken it into my hands, this will be the last. He is married and I cannot spend another night alone: thinking at hopeless dreams; begging myself to force him and choose between us. I am a selfish woman who cannot bear sharing my beloved with another woman. _He is mine_, another lie but, I want him to be mine and it would be so easy.

But, it is not right.

Justifying one's wrong doings is twice as morally corrupting myself than doing the deed, I can no longer do this.

I love him with all my heart, mind, body and soul; that is why I am setting him free.

I am afraid as I shall tell him the words, that 'It is over'; the good things he has brought into my sad excuse of a life will turn against me. Vanishing in a puff of smoke, never to return and I crawl back into my life as the mouse I once was, before I met him, and always will be.

He is looking at me, I cannot read him again. I wonder what he is thinking the same thing. I look away for a moment and flare firmness. There is nothing stopping me, I cannot keep on pushing him away from his wife. I am afraid that if I loose my demons, my angels will take flight as well. I am afraid, it has to be now, "Hakkai, I have to tell you something. We have...I am..."

_tbc._


End file.
